Frankly, Mr. Shankly: Difference between revisions

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{{lyrics
{{lyrics
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|Frankly, Mr. Shankly
This position I've held:
It pays my way and it corrodes my soul
I want to leave, you will not miss me
I want to go down in musical history
 
Frankly, Mr. Shankly,
I'm a sickening wreck
I've got the 21st Century breathing down my neck
I must move fast, you understand me
I want to go down in celluloid history
Mr. Shankly
 
Fame, Fame, fatal Fame
It can play hideous tricks on the brain
But still I'd rather be Famous than righteous or holy
Any day, any day, any day
 
But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilled
Making Christmas cards with the mentally ill
I want to live and I want to love
I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of
 
Frankly, Mr. Shankly
This position I've held
It pays my way and it corrodes my soul
Oh, I didn't realize that you wrote poetry
- I didn't realize you wrote such bloody awful poetry -
Mr. Shankly
 
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask
You are a flatulent pain in the ass
I do not mean to be so rude
But still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly
Oh, give us money


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Revision as of 01:24, 4 June 2012

[[File: | thumb | right | Cover art]]

THE SMITHS Song
Name Unknown
Album/Single Unknown
Length Unknown
Recorded Unknown
Writer Unknown
Producer Unknown

Information

Lyrics

Frankly, Mr. Shankly

This position I've held: It pays my way and it corrodes my soul I want to leave, you will not miss me I want to go down in musical history

Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I'm a sickening wreck I've got the 21st Century breathing down my neck I must move fast, you understand me I want to go down in celluloid history Mr. Shankly

Fame, Fame, fatal Fame It can play hideous tricks on the brain But still I'd rather be Famous than righteous or holy Any day, any day, any day

But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilled Making Christmas cards with the mentally ill I want to live and I want to love I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of

Frankly, Mr. Shankly This position I've held It pays my way and it corrodes my soul Oh, I didn't realize that you wrote poetry - I didn't realize you wrote such bloody awful poetry - Mr. Shankly

Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask You are a flatulent pain in the ass I do not mean to be so rude But still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly Oh, give us money

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